


Prayers

by Lady Nyra (Seredine)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU after Season 5, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Shot, Cum shot, Depression, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Torture, Oral Sex, Physical Torture, Rimming, Self Loathing, Torture, Voyeurism, happy-ish ending, hint at sucicide but it doesn't happen, no non-con, wanting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seredine/pseuds/Lady%20Nyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after Swan Song (Season 5).  Dean is praying to Castiel, but Cas isn't answering.</p><p>Rating moved up from M to E.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into SPN fanfiction. This is something that I've been playing with for a while. It started off as the prologue only, but I decided to carry it on.

Week 1  - Monday

_Hey, Cas._ Dean paused, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.  _Just checking in – thought I’d see how the reorganising of Heaven was going. Hope you’re kicking feathery ass – or not.  Angel orgies – you know you want them._ He tipped his drink heaven-ward.

Another pause; he was unsure if he should – or _could_ – ask what he wanted.  Instead he settled for:  _If you feel like dropping in I’m at Bobby’s.  I’ll be here for a few days at least._

Settling back on the sofa he took a swig of his drink, trying to look nonchalant – he didn’t want Cas to really think he was expecting him.  Three beers later he went to bed, hoping that it was a celestial orgy keeping his angel away.

 

Wednesday

_A few things to fix up on my baby and then I’m outta here, Cas.  Give me a little bit of warning if you show, so I don’t jump and have the whole thing fall on me._

 

Friday

_Cas, just letting you know, I’m moving on today – heading towards Lisa’s just like Sa-_ his knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment, turning his knuckles white.  _Just like I promised.  I’ll probably stop along the way, so I’ll let you know where I am when I get there…_

He started his baby up and swung it out of the drive; casting one last glance in the rear-view to see Bobby turn and head back into his house.

 

Week 2 - Monday

_Cas, I’m at the Russell Motel, Billings, Montana – Room two._

Tuesday

_Western Motel, Room twenty-three, Great Falls, Montana, in case you’re looking._

Friday

_Sunnydale Motel – yeah I know – Homedale, Idaho.  Room thirty-one._

He rubbed his hands over his face.

_Look, man, you’ve probably noticed I’m going to wrong way.  I just-_

_If you’ve got five minutes spare, it would be nice to see you – just to touch base._

Week 4 - Tuesday

_I know when you were last here I said some things.  I’m not angry at you, Cas._ He took a shaky breath as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, completely ignoring the girl who was literally bending over backwards in front of him _.  Hard Candy Gentleman’s Club, Salem, Oregon._

He smirked a little as he drank the warm liquor in one go, thinking of the one and only time he had taken Cas to a similar place.  Biting his lip in a half smile, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps this wasn’t the best place to make a call to his missing angel.

 

Saturday

_Cas._ He looked up at the ornate alter, his green eyes rising upwards to the crucifix above it.  _I’m in a freakin’_ church _, for God sake!  Seriously.  I’m not sure if this will amplify my call or something – figured it might be like standing two feet from a cell tower…_

 _I’m alone.  I’ve never been alone before.  Not really, even when dad was off hunting without me and Sam-_ he sucked in a ragged breath.  _Sammy’s_ gone _, and every part of me, every fibre in my being wants to either die or bring Sam back, but I can’t – I made a promise…_

He couldn’t ask… he _wouldn’t_ …

The eyes of the priest watched  the young man who had been knelt at his alter for the last quarter hour.  He’d had thieves in the past come in posing as men of faith only to try and steal off with the church’s silver.

However, five minutes later, the man stood with what looked like the weight of the world upon his shoulders.  He turned and left the church, catching the minister’s eye as he left, giving the elderly priest a nod of acknowledgment.  The minister regretted his prior judgement as he saw the sorrow in the young man’s eyes – a grief so deep he wondered how the Lord could _not_ answer whatever prayer he offered.

 

Week 7 - Wednesday 

_I made a promise, a promise I didn’t want to make, that I don’t want to keep.  If you were really my friend you’d be here, stopping me keeping this damned thing, telling me that some god-awful thing is going down and only you and I can save the world._

He banged his hand against the wheel, frustrated that his angel still hadn’t appeared – no matter how many times he offered for Castiel to grace him with this presence his angel still remained absent. 

_You selfish son of a bitch!_

Dean stared up at the two storey house that would be the beginning of his apple-pie life sentence if he got out of the car. 

‘Dammit!’

In reality he knew Cas held no responsibility over his current predicament, it was all Sam’s fault, but how could he blame his brother?  His brother sat in a cage in hell, having saved the world with his selfless sacrifice and asked for nothing but for Dean to have a normal life.  His angel was off somewhere, living it up with his angel pals, having orgies and God knew what else.  And in truth, Dean didn’t blame him, he’d be right there with him… if Cas would just ask.

 _This was what_ you _craved, Sammy, not me,_ he thought sadly as he opened the door of his Impala. 

_You’ve got until I reach the door, Cas._

_I’m going to ring the bell._

‘Dean,’ Lisa breathed at the sight of him.

 

Week 16 – Saturday

He sat on the end of the bed that, as of last night, he now shared with Lisa, head in his hands, his chest laden with guilt as her voice carried through from the shower.  It was some awful current pop song and it made him want to claw at his ears.

Instead he took a semi-calming breath.

 _Hey assbutt, it’s been months_ , he sent the thought heavenward, directing it towards his angel. 

_We’re having a barbecue today – all of Lisa’s friends and neighbours swinging by.  She’s trying to… integrate me.  I understand that… but I can’t do it._

_They’re_ her _friends.  Not mine.  Not that I haven’t tried to like her friends.  But, dude, they’re so…_ normal.  _Not one of them would know a Wendigo from a Chihuahua.  What do I talk about?  Sports?  Schools?  Cars?_

_I tried talking cars once to Bill; man if I’d had my gun on me.  Talked about nothing but the fuel economy he was getting from his friggin’ Toyota, and what he said about my baby…_

_Hell man, I had three friends in the whole world; Sammy, Bobby and, well, you._

_Sammy’s…_ He bit back on the well of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.  Time had moved on, but the pain of the loss of his baby brother had not.

_And Bobby – he’s not the most social of butterflies._

_You – man, I must be in a bad way if I’m inviting a socially awkward angel to a family filled barbecue.  You’ll probably end up staring at the kids and freaking out their folks that you’re some pervert._

He dropped his head, with a slight shake and a half wistful smile, at the thought of his angel watching the tykes jumping in the pool, seeing the purity and innocence within their souls as a gift of God – wanting to protect them – whilst their parents watched him, whispering their wicked, sinful thoughts. 

_I know you’re busy, but you gotta stick it back in those tax accountant pants at some point, dude.  And I’d like for you to meet her – Lisa, I mean._

He swallowed back the lump of self-loathing he felt welling up within him again.

_Anyway, you know where Lisa lives, so if you want some good beef – man, I’m awesome at the grill – and a cool beer… please?_

Week 21 – Saturday

_…I’m desperate, Cas.  I’m trying, I really am.  I want to do this, for Sammy.  But I’m tearing my freakin’ hair out here.  I’m not cut out for this lifestyle.  I’m a hunter, plain and simple.  I see bad things around every corner._

_I have the demon blade beneath my pillow, my sawn-off under the bed, with my salt rounds, there’s holy water throughout the house with silver knives in every room.  Dude, how am I_ any _sort of father figure?  I don’t know the first thing about normal.  Wendigos, vampires, demons – those I know about.  But this apple-pie life…?_

_I’ve gained, like, six-pounds!_

‘Dean?’ Lisa’s voice interrupted his silent prayers and he scrubbed furiously at his tears, as if he could banish them from his soul as well as his face.

Week 27 – Thursday

_You got your listening ears on, Castiel?_ God that sounded weird.  _Cas, I just wanted to say I get it.  You needed me for what I was and now that it’s all over and done with I’m ‘surplus to requirements’ as my boss would say. I understand now, I wasn’t a friend, merely a charge.  Sammy probably would have understood that quicker…_

He sighed and gripped the wheel of his baby sitting in the stuffy garage, the keys in the ignition but the car going nowhere fast.  He could hear Ben calling to his friends in the garden behind the house, their laughter full of a joy and innocence Dean had never experienced.  He could never comprehend the lives of Lisa and Ben, of the neighbours he regularly served steak and burgers to, of the men he worked with in the auto shop on the other side of town; lives untouched by monsters or demons or anything remotely not-normal.

_So I finally get it, I’ll leave you alone.  Just, I’m drowning here.  Drowning in lies and misery and guilt.  Guilt for Sammy, for the whole world still turning, for the way I’m lying to Lisa._

_I thought we were friends – or something at least close enough – and that’s why I kept calling.  I needed someone…_ you _– I suppose – to come tell me that it was going to get better, that eventually this pain would go away, or at least dull._

_Lisa says it will, but-_

_You were there, you saw, you experienced everything we went through.  You were support to me when I was ready to quit – and fuck, man, next time just speak, don’t beat the ever-loving shit out of me!_

_I understand that I’m beneath the angels now, but I need you-_

He sighed, shook his head in wonder of his own damn weakness and dropped his arms from the wheel to his sides. 

‘If _you_ ever need _me,_ Cas, regardless of all this now, just pop by here, because I’ll be here,’ his voice grew hard, ‘with Lisa, just like I promised.  But I’ll be ready and willing to do whatever you need-’

‘Dean.’

Castiel’s gravelly voice caused him to jump in his seat; his reflexes no longer what they were, allowed the angel to grab the arm he threw towards the sudden intruder. 

‘Cas?’  Dean stared in disbelief, unsure if the angel was really there – sometimes he dreamt of Castiel coming to him, rescuing him from this non-life.

‘Yes, Dean.’   Castiel levelled his gaze at the ex-hunter.  ‘Thank you for freeing me.’

He had been about to launch himself at his long absent angel – he _didn’t_ hug, but his whole being wanted to make sure that his friend was really there – but Castiel’s choice of words froze him in place.  It was then he noticed the bruising around the angel’s eye, the split of his lip, the way he was clutching at one side and sat at an awkward angle as if his shoulders were causing him pain.

‘Freeing you?  Dude, what’s going on?  Why do you look like crap?’ 

‘I can explain, but they will not be far behind.’

Without warning the angel leaned over and, with two fingers, touched Dean’s forehead and the world around the pair moved in the blink of an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you work out how Dean freed Cas?


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The majority of this chapter is set at the very end of 'Swan Song' and the dialogue and situation is taken from those scenes. However, this is done from Castiel's point of view and leads to the set up of the story.  
> Castiel endures his first round of torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have guessed how Castiel was freed by Dean. Check the days that Dean prayed and specifically what Dean finally confessed to on that day.

Castiel wasn’t sure when he became aware that he had a body.  It didn’t feel too different to a vessel, but there was something missing – a silence within himself where Jimmy had once been – that it took him a moment to realise that he had been reborn.  It took him a second longer for him to comprehend that he had the touch of his Father upon him.  His mark and His scent lingered, and he breathed deeply to hold onto it before he finally opened his body’s eyes.

He was still in the graveyard where Lucifer had destroyed his vessel and grace, scattering it to the four corners of the earth to ride on the currents of the wind and fall to the earth.  He had only felt a momentary discomfort before he remembered nothing.  His head tilted automatically at that thought. 

Strange that you could remember nothing, but remember nothing he did. 

A tickle at the back of his mind made him blink rapidly.  He would remember, he realised, when the time was right.  But that was not now.

The wind whipped around him, ruffling the trench coat he still wore, and carried a scent that was so familiar to him it almost reminded him of being home.  Dean Winchester was still here and alive.

He turned around and saw the Impala in front him and just beyond he saw Dean knelt on the floor, his head lowered, his shoulders slumped; his whole being cried out of emptiness and loss.  His mind closed, shutting out the pain, but his soul grieved even if he consciously could not.  Castiel looked around for a sign of Adam and Sam, Michael and Lucifer, but there was not a trace.  No destruction, no desolation, no paradise, no perfection – just more of the same from before he remembered nothing. 

And Bobby Singer dead on the floor just beyond where Dean knelt.

He flexed his grace preparing to stand at Dean’s side, but his body jumped a little in shock at the surprising feeling of a different energy rippling through him.  Slowly he extended his wings and pulled them around himself.  His head tilted instinctively at the curiosity of them as he beheld their colour.  He had been part of the Garrison that watched over Earth and his wings had been a grey-blue-black.  When he flexed them ready for battle, they shimmered silver as if made of steal.  However, now they were lighter and brighter with an ivory sheen to them, rather like that of a dove.  He flickered them experimentally as if preparing for a fight and was mildly surprised as they became golden. 

 _I’m a Seraph._   He turned his head at the thought as he tucked his wings back behind him and stepped towards Dean.  He would take time to consider this later, right now Dean needed him.  

As he landed, Dean slowly turned his head and quietly took a breath as he beheld the angel at his side.  Castiel grew concerned at the state of his charge’s face as Dean turned towards him; his left eye beaten shut, his jaw swollen and his mouth bloody.  Which of his brothers had done this to his human whilst he had been gone? 

A sliver of anger bubbled up in him as he watched Dean come back to himself.  It was clear that his charge’s whole body ached in pain at the way he moved so stiffly, lacking his usual style and confidence.   Castiel felt his hands clench into fists, his wings moved restlessly behind him as he kept his face impassive, not wanting Dean to think he was angry with _him_.

‘Cas, you’re alive?’ he questioned, and it was clear to Castiel that the hunter did not believe what he was seeing, even if his soul brightened in an exclamation of joy at the vision of the angel before him.  Said angel paused for a moment before answering his friend, reigning in his anger so that his voice could remain neutral.

‘I am better than that,’ he finally commented, his voice softer, quieter than he had thought would be possible with the fury he felt at his brethren.  He reached up his fingers, saddened and angered more as Dean slightly flinched at his movement, and pressed them to the young man’s forehead.  Dean blinked as the pain in his bones and muscles disappeared, his jaw no longer aching, his sight suddenly whole.

Castiel watched as the hunter took a moment to understand what had occurred.  He had never been able to heal the man before and when his charge turned back to him, the wonder was clear in those green eyes he could stare into for hours, and he felt himself soften, his anger abating slightly as Dean slowly got to his feet.

‘Cas,’ Dean started, looking the angel up and down, a sudden, disturbing question – for the hunter – upon his lips.  ‘Are you God?’

Castiel felt his lips curve ever so slightly at the hunter’s words.   He could understand how the man, the way humans perceive things, could make the mistake.  It was almost childlike and completely endearing to see Dean so innocent in his awe.

‘That’s a nice compliment,’ he responded, his voice still soft and gentle as the hunter came to his mind again.  ‘But no.  Although I do believe that he brought me back.’  The sudden pain in Dean’s eyes caused the angel to turn away.  ‘New and improved.’  He spied the body of the older hunter again and stepped towards him; he couldn’t retrieve Sam from where he assumed the other Winchester had ended up, but he could bring back Dean’s almost father – the man that his human relied upon, could seek comfort from.

He stayed while the pair hugged.  Castiel knew that the hunters would never speak of their moment after it occurred, but it filled something within the angel to watch his human bond with the elder in his grief.  Bobby said nothing as Dean wept into his shoulder, their arms locked around one another giving support and comfort.

 

-oOo-

 

When finally they left it was bordering on nightfall.  Dean held the door of the Impala open and with a tip of his head, Castiel realised he was telling him to get in. 

They drove through the night, for the first time that Castiel could remember in complete silence, the radio completely forgotten.  It was over an hour before Dean finally spoke.

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘Return to Heaven I suppose,’ Castiel answered.

‘Heaven?’  The hunter’s jaw shifted over the words as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

‘With Michael in the cage, I’m sure it’s total anarchy up there.’

‘So what, you’re the new sheriff in town?’

The comment made him huff in amusement.  ‘I like that, yeah, I suppose I am.’

‘Wow, God gives you a brand new shiny set of wings and suddenly you’re his bitch again.’  The disgust in the hunter’s voice was unmistakable.

‘I don’t know what God wants,’ Castiel said frowning at Dean’s comment and watched as his human’s soul flickered and darkened into a silvery grey.  He knew that the hunter could lash out when he was hurt, trying to cover up a vulnerability with forced bravado, hatred or  any other emotion he could pull out the bag to cover up his softer spots.   ‘I don’t even know if he’ll return.  It just… seems like the right thing to do.’

‘Well if you do see Him, you tell Him that I’m coming for Him next.’

Castiel turned slowly to face the hunter, who took his eyes off the road to look back at the angel.

‘You’re angry.’

‘That’s an understatement.’

‘He helped – maybe even more than we realise-’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’  Dean interrupted him.  ‘He brought _you_ back-’ and suddenly he understood, this was part of Dean’s way of grieving.  If he had learnt anything about his human over the last two years it was that he would not be able to offer soothing words of comfort now.  Dean had decided to deal with his suffering through lashing out.  ‘-But what about Sam?’

And there it was.  The whole reason that Dean existed.  Something within the angel’s chest felt heavy.  _Everything_ revolved around Sam.  What reason was there for Dean to live if Sam wasn’t here?

‘What about me, huh?’ The question surprised Castiel, Dean never wanted anything, except for Sam to be safe and a good bottle of something foul tasting when he could get his hands on it.  ‘Where’s _my_ grand prize.  All I got was my brother _in a hole_.’

‘You got what you asked for, Dean,’ he told the hunter after a moment’s pause to decide that it would be best, in Dean’s current state of mind, to stick to the truth.  Words blunt enough that would make Dean think about the consequences of his actions; actions both brothers had been adamant he help them follow through in order to save their world.

‘No paradise, no hell,’ he shook his head a little, ‘just more of the same.’  That heavy feeling inside him grew heavier still as the hunter took on board the angel’s words and Castiel saw the burden Dean placed upon himself.  The weight of Sam being caged, the world not receiving paradise.  He tried a different tact, leaving the man with a question for him to ponder.  ‘What would you rather have; peace or freedom?’

He hadn’t left, but when the hunter turned his gaze back to where he had been sat in the Impala, his human could no longer see him. 

‘You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?’ the hunter said aloud and Castiel could detect a hint of amusement buried under the wall of pain and denial the hunter was building around his heart.  Castiel did not want to leave him like this, he knew that he would need a friend, someone to talk to over the next coming weeks and months once he finally stopped building the wall.

If there was one thing he knew about Dean Winchester, it was his soul.  His human played a good game of remaining untouchable, but, when stripped to his base essence, his soul was desperate for someone to reach in and touch it, to offer him everything he thought he was unworthy of – friendship, comfort, love and faith.  From the moment Castiel had met his human in his reformed human shell he had felt that the hunter had no faith in himself, no self-worth.  It was why he tried so hard to keep his brother safe – Sam was worth a million Deans in Dean’s eyes. 

The angel shook his head sadly and made a silent promise that he’d be back for his charge as often as was possible.  When Dean was ready, he would call him and he would come.

 

-oOo-

 

He coughed again, choking on his blood, his eyes unable to focus as Raphael leaned into him, the angel’s breath hot on his face.  The stone slab at his back, stopped him from moving back; finally he understood what Dean meant about personal space and made a silent vow to his human that if he ever saw him again, he’d stand at least an arm’s length away at all times.

‘Well, are you ready to kneel before me, little brother?’

‘I will… not,’ he spat as he coughed again, blood spraying across his elder brother’s face, his throat raw from the cries of pain Raphael had wrangled out of him. _Dean wouldn’t kneel_ , he silently repeated. _Dean lasted three decades, I can last more than three days.  Dean would be strong.  Dean-_

‘Tsk, tsk.’   The archangel ran the back his hand over Castiel’s face; a gesture of a lover, supposedly soothing, a gentle caress to calm the nerves of someone you cared about, but it only intensified the feeling of dread knotting within Castiel’s stomach.  He shifted, wishing he could get away, but the invisible ties that bound him to the wall held him firm.

‘Are you really going to make me kill you?’ Raphael tilted his head.  ‘No,’ he drawled after a pause.  ‘No, I don’t think I will.  You’d be a mart-’

 _Hey, Cas._ Dean’s voice filled Castiel’s mind and he was too weak to listen to both voices.  He needed to focus on Raphael, on why he wasn’t going to kill him, but Dean’s prayer was like a soothing balm over his grace and he couldn’t resist sinking into the warm soft tones of his human’s prayer. 

_Just checking in – thought I’d see how the reorganising of Heaven was going. Hope you’re kicking feathery ass – or not.  Angel orgies – you know you want them._

Castiel coughed a huff of a laugh involuntarily, a spasm of pain shooting through his chest, the ribs of his new body screaming in pain.  But his grace warmed, flared bright as Dean-  He felt Dean’s hesitation before his words started up again.  _If you feel like dropping in I’m at-_

‘ _Castiel!_ ’  The archangel wrenched his drooping head back to refocus his attention.  ‘It was _him_ wasn’t?’ he sneered, his lips turned up in disgust.  ‘You’d rather die listening to his prayers than…  Oh.   Oh, Cas-ti-el.’  Castiel tried to keep his head up, tried to keep his focus on the only surviving power source in heaven, as the giant of a celestial being let out a dark chuckle as he turned from him, sauntering half way across the room.  ‘Thank you, little brother.  Thank you.’

‘No,’ he croaked.  ‘Don’t -  Hurt… Dean!’

‘Why would I hurt him?’  Raphael turned back to him with a faux confused look upon his features; his amusement clear in his gaze.  ‘He’s of no consequence to me… But you…. Bad, Castiel.’  He chuckled again, as he stepped back towards him.  ‘You’re going to hurt him _real_ bad.  His… abandonment issues are going to skyrocket after-’

Castiel frowned as his brother spoke, before realisation hit.  ‘No, you can’t-’

‘Oh, but I can, Castiel.  That’s the whole point.’  He strolled back to the bound angel, his finger delicately lifting his captive’s face to look him in the eye.  ‘I can do whatever I want.’

 

-oOo-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will be now updated at least once a week.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another gouge had Castiel screaming as his brother finished etching the rune into his celestial form and a bright light flared through the chamber, through Castiel, searing him inside and out. An anti-healing sigil. Castiel almost wept.
> 
> ‘Now,’ Raphael drawled. ‘The real fun can begin…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - GISHWHES happened.

Chapter Two

 

Castiel doubled over with a groan of pain, blood spilling from his mouth, as he failed to catch his breath.  Raphael, hummed _Abide with Me_ behind him as he worked on his latest round of torturing his little brother.  It had been days since his capture and the archangel had been relentless in his pursuit to make Castiel bend to him.  But Castiel refused; his constant inner monologue reminding him over and over that Dean had endured more and thus, he, an Angel of the Lord, could suffer whatever Raphael threw at him.

‘I fear no foe, with Thee at hand-’ Raphael’s deep voice stopped suddenly, his hands pausing and allowing Castiel a moment of rest.  The archangel laughed loudly at the suitability of the words he had sung, before continuing his work on Castiel’s wings.  ‘Oh isn’t that the truth, Castiel.  Not that you were much of a foe at any rate.  I mean, your only _real_ power is how you returned from not one, but _two_ deaths.’

Raphael considered that point for a moment as he made another gouge in the soft flesh of Castiel’s wing causing the seraph to suck in a deep pain filled breath between his teeth. 

‘How did you return?  After all, I may not be as powerful as dear old Lucifer, but usually when I rent an angel in to four, five – six pieces was it? – they don’t usually get back up again.’ 

Another gouge had Castiel screaming as his brother finished etching the rune into his celestial form and a bright light flared through the chamber, through Castiel, searing him inside and out.  An anti-healing sigil.  Castiel almost wept.

‘Now,’ Raphael drawled.  ‘The real fun can begin…’

 

-oOo-

 

Adriel, a torturer of a different format, had simply entered whatever confusing part of heaven that had a dungeon, smirked at him and waved their hand.  Castiel had been momentarily confused at what he was seeing – it was almost like the television sets he had frequently watched in motels with the Winchesters. 

The image showed a hot dusty road, a large field with cars strewn throughout and an unkempt house; Castiel quickly realised that he was seeing Bobby Singer’s residence.  He balked as he watched Dean stride out of the front door of the house, dressed in his usual flannel and white t-shirt underneath.  His human’s soul still shining brighter than any other he’s ever known, but it’s dimmer than he’s ever seen it before.  Dean is hurting, he realises.  Hurting, alone, confused…

Castiel watches, with a deep ache within his grace that is completely unrelated to pain his older brother inflicted, as the maelstrom of emotions Dean refuses to face washes over him.  Dean looks nonchalant as ever as he strips off his flannel shirt and swipes his forearm across his sweating brow, before reaching back into Baby’s engine.  The white t-shirt he’d worn underneath was already clinging to him, his back muscles clearly defined as his arms reached and twisted as he worked; the t-shirt he wore rose high upon his muscular arms and Castiel blinked at the smooth unblemished skin.

‘How?’ he croaked, his throat still raw from the cries he had issued not so long ago under Raphael’s careful ministrations.  He shuddered at Adriel’s cold laugh at his feeble question.

‘You have a lot to learn about controlling your new found powers, Castiel,’ Adriel mocked with unabashed glee. ‘When you healed him after that fiasco of a fight, you removed every injury, ever scar, ache, pain and _mark_ upon your favourite pet.’

His mark, the scar that showed he had gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition no longer marred his tanned skin… but he still felt Dean, heard his prayers louder than any other’s.  Perhaps his mark was gone from Dean’s flesh, but it-

Another horrifying thought pushed through his weary mind, but his voice was still too raw to enunciate it fully, ‘Every…?’   

He winced as the other angel smiled wickedly.  ‘Yes, even the clever little spell you placed upon his ribs.  We can find him easier than a virgin in a whore house.’  And upon that note the angel turned and left, leaving the unsaid threat hanging heavily upon him.

Castiel watched mournfully as his friend continued to work on his beloved automobile, humming along to a song by a coloured clam gang… or something.  However, there was no joy in  Dean’s contribution, it was almost as if it was an automatic response, something he did without thinking.

Castiel heard the song on Baby’s radio change and watched as Dean’s head shot up, smacking against the hood.

‘Son of a bitch!’ he cries out, rubbing at the back of his head furiously as he storms around the car and switches the stereo off quickly.  Castiel’s split forehead creases into a frown; the opening words had sounded like German, but were not – they made no sense at all and he had no inclination as to  why they had upset his human. 

He feels Dean’s tiredness as if it was his own as the human sighs wearily and sinks onto the driver’s seat, legs still outside the car.  Dean takes the moment to look out into the middle distance and just sit for a moment as if deep in thought.

 _A few things to fix up on my baby and then I’m outta here, Cas._ Dean’s prayer sounds in his ear and he moans slightly as it washes over his grace, giving him a moment of blessed relief as the aching in his deformed wings eases.   His bond mark might be gone from Dean’s skin, but he could still feel it’s affects – it was still there on Dean’s soul.

Although Dean didn’t speak, didn’t think any clear thoughts, his emotions lingered with Castiel, focused as they were on the bound angel.  Castiel watched as Dean seemed to come to some conclusion, slapping his hands down on his knees before drawing them up his denim clad legs and looking across the junk yard.

_Give me a little bit of warning if you show, so I don’t jump and have the whole thing fall on me._

Castiel braced himself for it, but it did little to stop the stabbing sensation deep in his grace; it was brief, but the disappointment he felt from Dean that he hadn’t immediately shown himself hurt more than anything Raphael could throw at him.

 

-oOo-

 

 _Cas,_ Dean’s prayer whispered through his mind; warm and welcome, rousing him from his unconscious state. 

‘Dean,’ he whispered into the silent dark, feeling his friend’s presence curl around him like a blanket, warmth seeping into his grace, lapping soothingly at the edges of pain that lingered above the numbness that otherwise held his body captive.  Cas assumed that Raphael had finished his torture some time ago – after he had passed out – and had left to see to some other matters.  The window to Earth wasn’t open and Castiel had to imagine where Dean was, what he was doing…  Adriel’s form of torture was far crueller than Raphael’s.  Show him something he couldn’t have.  Show him the pain he was causing by not appearing at his human’s side and then take it away, leaving him with only his own imaginings of what Dean was up to whenever his mind thought of him in passing – not often – emotions started to well up – more common – or when his dreams called out to the his angel – every damn night!

 _Just letting you know,_ Dean continued, _I’m moving on today – heading towards Lisa’s just like Sa-_ The flare of Dean’s pain at the thought of the younger Winchester shot through him, causing his eyes to widen and knees to give way; a groan to echo through the darkness as he tried to catch his breath.

 _I can do this,_ he chanted internally _.  I can face anything for Dean.  Dean has endured, Dean needs-_

 _Just like I promised,_ Dean continued and Castiel could well imagine him gritting his teeth as he gripped the steering wheel of the Impala.  _I’ll probably stop along the way, so I’ll let you know where I am when I get there…_

Dean’s thoughts lingered on him a moment, on the possibility of him appearing suddenly on the back seat  and Castiel clung to it like a rock, a safe place in the sea of suffering he was currently enduring. 

No one heard him whimper when Dean’s mind, again filled with disappointment, finally turned away from him a short while later.

 

-oOo-

 

_Billings, Montana._

_Great Falls, Montana._

_Homedale, Idaho._

Castiel had no idea how much time had passed between Dean’s prayers, most of his time was spent either suffering at Raphael’s hands or unconscious afterwards, only awakening at the call of Dean’s whisky roughened voice. 

‘You’re going the wrong way, Dean,’ he spoke aloud, as if his charge could hear him.  ‘Why?’

 _Look, man, you’ve probably noticed I’m going to wrong way-_  Castiel huffed a small laugh, as the now familiar warmth of Dean’s prayers filled him and brightened his waning grace.  It was something he had come to notice about Dean’s short prayers giving his location to his angel.  They offered him strength when Raphael had taken it from him, comfort when his older brother had stolen any idea of it away from him, and something that he couldn’t quiet put his finger on.  

Taking a breath, he gathered what strength he could muster and tried to make his legs support him again; his arms were tired and the strain on his chest from hanging by them was causing his breath to become laboured. 

_If you’ve got five minutes spare, it would be nice to see you – just to touch base._

‘Oh, Dean,’ Castiel’s whispered voice cracked on a sob.  ‘If I was free I’d give you all the time in world.’

 

-oOo-


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Tsk, tsk, really why must you make this difficult on yourself?’
> 
> Raphael leaned forward, his blade poised above the rune carved in Castiel’s chest. ‘I promise you brother, you do not want me to do what I am about to. You do not want me to make the final cut; I suggest you bow to me now – this will be irreversible… and incredibly painful.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos so far!  
> Any errors are mine. Please point them out if you find them.

Another scream rent the heavens; the angels quivered throughout the host, their brother’s pain was supposed to be dampened, it certainly was not supposed to spread throughout them all; cause wings throughout the cosmos to quiver in fear at the power they felt for a brief moment, before all was silent again.

 

-oOo-

 

‘What… what did you do?’ Castiel gasped and swallowed, his mouth bloody, his legs unable to support him.  He groaned against the pulsing pain deep within his core, something foreign, something _wrong_ pushing against his grace.  A brief flicker of a demon blood fuelled Sam Winchester appeared in his mind before he tried to focus back on Raphael.

‘Will you bow before me, Castiel?’ the archangel challenged as he towered over his limply hanging sibling. 

‘N-no.’

‘Tsk, tsk, really why must you make this difficult on yourself?’

Raphael leaned forward, his blade poised above the rune carved in Castiel’s chest.  ‘I promise you, brother, you do not want me to do what I am about to.  You do not want me to make the final cut; I suggest you bow to me now – this will be irreversible… and incredibly painful.’

‘I won’t,’ he hissed, his chest heaving, blood spraying as he spoke, his legs shaking underneath him as he desperately tried to stand upon them, to stand up to his brother, to face him.  _Dean did it, Dean did it, Dean did…_

‘Well, brother, I am truly sorry – you had your chance.’

The silver blade touched Castiel’s chest and twisted, the searing pain burned through him, twisting and turning his grace, forcing it to conform, to bend and press.  Castiel’s eyes widened as he realised what sigil Raphael was completing; ‘No!’ he screamed as his grace flickered and flashed in his usually dim cell, lighting it up, chasing away the shadows that had started to play tricks on his mind when he was left along for too long. 

Then, as quickly as his grace flared, all was dark again.  His grace, tightly bound and compressed within his body, unable to escape, unable to flee.  A punishment that hadn’t been handed out since before the fall of the Morning Star, one that was only supposed to be known by the Almighty and reserved for the most grievous of rebellious angels as a final warning before they were cast down to the pit.

‘You are bound to the Heavens, Castiel.  No more shall you ever wander, no where shall you ever seek.  This is your home eternal, where you may only watch, and never partake.’

Adriel motioned towards the cell wall again, and an image of Earth appeared, showing Dean lying on a motel bed somewhere, flicking through channel after channel.

Castiel waited until they left before he wept.

 

-oOo-

 

Both Raphael’s forces and Castiel’s supporters laid down their weapons and turned towards the centre of the cosmos – where God had once resided – and the Heavens wept with the lone little angel who was forever lost to them.

 

-oOo-

 

_I know when you were last here I said some things._

Something tugged at Castiel, begging him to return to consciousness.  His chin touched his chest that burned from the strain it took as he hung from his arms stretched out slightly behind him.  Had he been human, he would have died by now. 

Little whimpers and groans, barely audible in the quiet of the dark chamber, escaped him as he tried to fight against the tide of darkness that wanted to suffocate him.

_I’m not angry at you, Cas._

The darkness receded slightly, a small pulse within him beat. 

‘Dean,’ it was barely uttered above a breath.

_Hard Candy Gentleman’s Club, Salem, Oregon._

A painful chuckle spluttered from Castiel, at Dean’s own amusement, before he sank back into complete unconsciousness.

 

-oOo-

 

The cracking of his wings echoed in the chamber, but the gag within Castiel silenced his agony as Raphael pulled the bones apart, jarring them past one another, breaking the flesh that contained them in this form, to ensure that they would never heal.

‘You could stop all this, Castiel.  All you have to do is bow to me.  Agree to stand by my side, here in the Heavens, for eternity.’

_Dean.  Dean.  Dean.  Dean._

‘Your little pet is dreaming of you again, I see.  Disgusting,’ Raphael drawled with a sneer.  ‘The way he looks at your in his dreams is sickening.’  Another crack, pull, push.  ‘The way he pines for you, calls for you regularly… How Michael could have-uh!’  He yanked the join of the wings at Castiel’s back, to his once beautiful feathery appendages, cracking it in two.

He screamed, the pain so intense it broke the vocal binding Raphael had instilled. 

‘Hush.’  Raphael silenced him again with a wave; the blood from Castiel’s wings dribbling down the to the shirt sleeve he still wore in his human vessel.  ‘Tsk, now look,’ he sighed as he glared at the ruined cuff.

‘No more blood play.’ 

Castiel didn’t have to ask what was coming next, the sudden intense heat, the smell of smoke, the intense burning and the stench of burning feathers and flesh gave him everything he needed.

 

-oOo-

 

Castiel whimpered as he watched Dean walk down the aisle towards the heavily adorned alter.  The hunter looked around anxiously, before peering up at the large old crucifix and Castiel felt as if he was looking directly at him, such was the position he was viewing his human from.  Whatever angel he was viewing him through certainly chose interesting positions to spy upon his friend.

He wanted to laugh as Dean awkwardly – and wrongly – crossed himself, before hesitatingly kneeling before the alter.

It had been days since the very last archangel had been to visit him, since his wings were torn, rent, broken and burnt and still they trembled.  Castiel had no illusion that they would ever be whole again; that no healing beyond the touch of God Himself would ever be able to restore them to the beauty that they once had been.  He’d never fly – not even through the Heavens he was bound too. 

They lay limp, hanging from his back from the broken joint, unable to support themselves.  They had been a source of agony for days, but now the pain ebbed as Dean gathered his thoughts.

_Cas._

He gasped, his head falling back as he felt Dean’s concern for him hit him like a tidal wave.  He’d felt momentary relief from Dean’s prayers before, but nothing like this.  This was like standing under a water fall of blessed respite.  The burning of his wings cooling, his chest relaxing, his legs strengthening. 

Dean stared directly at the crucifix just as Cas managed to turn back to the window; he would forever swear to his Father that in that moment Dean saw him, looked directly into his grace and spoke to him.

 _I’m in a freakin’_ church _, for God sake!  Seriously.  I’m not sure if this will amplify my call or something – figured it might be like standing two feet from a cell tower…_

 _I’m alone._ Sadness swept through whatever current was swaying between them, but it didn’t dampen the concern Dean felt for his long absent friend. 

 _I’ve never been alone before.  Not really.  Even when dad was off hunting without me and Sam-_ he watched as Dean gathered his thoughts, finally saying what he had refused to say for so long. _Sammy’s_ gone _, and every part of me, every fibre in my being wants to either die or bring Sam back, but I can’t – I made a promise…_

‘It’s okay, Dean,’ Castiel murmured, his blue eyes now focused intently on his hunter who debated calling for him, begging him to come to his side instead of offering his own time _to_ the angel _._ ‘I understand.’

_Cas, I… sometimes I wish I could take it all back.  Go back to before I corrupted you – before you turned from heaven.  Just agreed to be Michaels’ bitch.  Perhaps then…_

‘No, Dean, No.’  Castiel shook his head vehemently, more awake and aware now than he had been in weeks.  ‘Do not think those thoughts or Raphael _will_ hear, he will give you false promises…’

He knew Dean couldn’t hear him, knew it was impossible to communicate with the hunter the way Dean was able to whisper to him, but still he watched as Dean’s dark blond head bobbed in what looked like silent agreement to Castiel’s plea.

_I can’t take it back; so I gotta finally man up and do what I promised._

Castiel watched Dean stand, look longingly up at the image of Christ before turning and walking away. 

A hiccup of a sob escaped the still bound angel.

 _Please,_ another voice, so far, so distant it was barely there, tickled his thoughts.  _Please, Lord, help him; whatever weight is on his shoulder, take the burden so that he may rest…_

‘I would, gladly,’ Castiel moaned, trying to block out Dean’s wave of heartbreak.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hadn’t prayed to Castiel in weeks, had firmly kept his thoughts in check and, if it hadn’t been for his dreams, Castiel thinks he would have died by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of masturbation and voyeurism.

Dean hadn’t prayed to Castiel in weeks, had firmly kept his thoughts in check and, if it hadn’t been for his dreams, Castiel thinks he would have died by now.  Curled into himself and just allowed his grace to fade away into nothingness.  But the dreams, _Dean’s_ dreams, kept him going.  Gave him just enough relief from the ever constant pain that Raphael and Adriel inflicted. 

He hated the idea that the angel – or was it angels?  No he was certain it was just one –could get into Dean’s head, watch his inner most thoughts.  He didn’t want that, didn’t want to know what Dean was dreaming of that sent gentle caresses of warmth through their bond, giving him the strength to stay strong against Raphael.  Whomever the dick-angel was – as Dean would call him – he needed to keep out of them.

He’d been unimpressed that the angel watched Dean constantly, even dressing and undressing. He’d been angry when the angel had stayed and watched Dean through his showers, standing within the shower stall _with_ him, rather than behind the curtain.  But the real horror and mortification came when the dick-angel spied on Dean’s lonely and empty masturbation session not long after he’d been to the church.   

It had started in the dream.  Castiel had no idea what Dean was dreaming about, only that there were swirls of good emotions, stronger than he’d felt from his human in months, and they were focused on him, giving him a shot of pain relief in steady, rhythmic bursts. 

It was glorious. 

Castiel threw his head back and sighed as he felt the soothing sensation – almost hand-like – travel from this throat, down his torso, lower still-

The caress snapped away as if the hand had been burnt just as Dean awoke with a start; wide awake and glancing around the room in panic, before heaving a heavy sigh of relief and running his hand over his face as if to clear this thoughts.  Groaning as he looked down at himself…

Dean was aroused.  Whatever he had dreamt about had left it’s evidence poking up at him.  He groaned again and fell back to the bed, throwing his arm over his face to try and hide away from the situation.  The blanket had fallen from his chest when he had sat up and now rode low on his hips, caught on the bulging erection. 

Dean slowly removed his arm from across his face, as his hand slid down his chest towards his prominent length.  His eyes were shut tight as he swallowed as if he had decided on something that he didn’t really want to do, before his hand pushed the sheet further down, releasing his hardened shaft.

Once Castiel had realised the situation the hunter was in, he refused to watch, cursing the dick-angel for remaining there, invading his human’s privacy and space.  He swore he would kill whoever it was when he found out their identity.  However, it was hard to keep his focus on his hatred for said angel when the small, clearly unwanted sounds, Dean made, fuelled his imagination; a vision of Dean’s hand quickly sliding up and down his aching, leaking erection; hips bucking into his hand, desperate to reach orgasm-

For Dean it was quick, it was mechanical. He came with an unwanted groan torn from his throat; a sound halfway between pleasure and pain carried on a sob of despair.

Castiel felt as if he had been punched in the gut, his stomach heaved at the self loathing he felt – although he was unclear on if it was his own or Dean’s.

Castiel prayed to his long absent father to make it all better.

 

-oOo-

 

Twice a week his wings were attacked; broken again and again to ensure there was no chance of healing, regardless of the anti-healing sigl.  Burnt so that the feathers – the new beautiful ivory plumage that his Father had only recently blessed him with –  were mattered together, blackened and singed beyond any recognition of what they were supposed to be.

He wanted to weep; an angel was proud, possessive and careful of their wings.  Castiel guessed it didn’t matter as he would never leave the Heavens, he’d never leave _this_ heaven, for he would never bow to Raphael.  _Never._

 

-oOo-

 

Castiel watched Dean sitting in the Impala as if he were sat next to the hunter, tears slipped down the young man’s face.  He was just thirty-one years old, yet his shoulders had carried the burden of so much loss, so much knowledge of what was hidden away from the world, far too much than any human – young or old – should ever carry.

_I made a promise, a promise I didn’t want to make, that I don’t want to keep.  If you were really my friend you’d be here, stopping me keeping this damned thing, telling me that some god-awful thing is going down and only you and I can save the world._

Castiel bit back a sob at Dean’s words, overcome with the desolation the man felt as he tore at himself internally.  The anger he outwardly displayed towards Castiel was nothing but a maelstrom of confusion, hurt and loneliness… and utter disgust at himself for what he was about to do.  Tears slid down Castiel’s face, but whether it was from the torment Dean was suffering or the slices Raphael was currently cutting into the tender flesh of his body’s lower back, he couldn’t be sure. 

Castiel screamed, his grace flaring brightly, burning, being forced towards his elder brother as the archangel finished the sigil for the fourth time that session. 

_You selfish son of a bitch!_

The chains that bound him rattled and he huffed in great breaths as his grace stilled and steadied within his body again, causing a roar of frustration from the archangel.  Whimpers escaped him as Raphael grabbed his hair, wrenching his head back to expose his throat and bring his ear to the more powerful angel’s lips. 

‘What did you do, little brother, to protect you from this command?’

 ‘I- I don’t know-’  He heaved in breath.  ‘What you mean.’

_You’ve got until I reach the door, Cas._

‘If I can’t have you willingly bending to me, I will _bind_ you to me.’  Raphael shoved his head forward, the chains clinked and shook as he was forcefully bent forward, allowing the archangel to better see his flesh.  ‘But this will not take.  _Why?’_

‘In the words… of a good- friend,’ Castiel panted.  ‘ _Bite me_.’  Raphael growled in frustration, throwing his blade across the room before he stormed out.

_I’m going to ring the bell._

‘Dean!’

Castiel shuddered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised today that these chapters are the shortest that I've ever written for a story, but they seem to fit what I'm trying to say, so I don't want to extend them just to throw in stuff that isn't needed. I hope that you're enjoying them anyway.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took a while for Castiel to figure out what was different. There were no snores coming from Dean, and the softest tendrils of comfort tickled at his grace. Lifting his heavy head and peering through blurry eyes at the window, his forehead wrinkled in confusion at what he saw.
> 
> Dean was no longer in his room at Lisa’s, instead he was moving around an unknown bedroom, his shirt discarded over the back of a chair, the top button on his jeans unbuttoned. Castiel drank in the muscular form of his human as he moved around the room, unpacking pieces here and there, tucking things away as if he was intimately familiar with the room. 
> 
> Castiel could feel a thrum of expectation running through the dark-blond as he shifted, unable to keep still in the space. Finally the door to the room opened and-  
> The angel blinked. 
> 
> ‘Cas,’ Dean sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since I updated and I am terribly sorry about that. This chapter was actually really difficult for me to write as I had to pop my slash smut cherry and I felt a little inadequate to do such a thing. I have to thank fvalconbridge for all the support and encourage she's given me whilst writing it. 
> 
> Please remember that this is a completely AU story and I reintroduce a character that has been killed off (according to superwiki), but in my head canon they're not... they're simply biding their time.

Chapter 5

For weeks Castiel watched as Dean made a home with Lisa. 

The first week he seemed on a mission to fix everything around the house, all the while planting silver knives, objects and pieces in random pots, drawers and shelves.  He kept his rifle under his bed with three boxes of salt rounds within easy reach, while some were stored at key points in the house – points Dean thought were safe bet standoff points.  Bottles of holy water were snuck away too. 

The second week, when there was nothing more to do, Dean folded.  He spent hours in bed, the door to the spare room that was his firmly locked as he wept away his grief – not that he would _ever_ admit that to anyone!

That was also Castiel’s worst week with Raphael.

‘I’ve worked out a little exchange program with the new King of Hell,’ Raphael announced proudly as he sauntered into Castiel’s prison.  ‘It seems, the demon was looking for you, wanted to strike a deal.  However, he was more than happy to bend his knee to my will when I saw the… profitability behind his scheme.

‘Adriel, if you would bring in our friend…’

Castiel blanched. 

'No,' Castiel whispered as he took in the formation that Raphael had created for the monstrosity of a soul that stood before him.  'You can’t.’ 

It was the first sign of weakness he had shown his older brother, and if he didn’t vividly remember almost being killed by the demon he would curse himself.  But this demon… Raphael didn’t know who he _thought_ he was controlling.  Castiel was under no illusions of this demon’s power.  Why he hadn’t taken the top spot instead of Crowley, the angel wasn’t sure.

'Castiel, I keep telling you,' Raphael cooed, revelling in his younger brother’s discomfit, 'I can do whatever I want.  When will you listen?'

'He'll kill me-'

'No.'  The archangel turned to the demon.  'You will _not_ kill him, do I make myself clear, Alistair. You kill him, the deal is broken and I will personally see that your existence is ended. No little hidey hole in hell for you this time.’

'I understand perfectly.'  The nasally voice of the demon sent shivers through Castiel's grace as it recalled the last time he had met this demon, right before Sam exorcised him.  Raphael assessed him, momentarily questioning his own judgement before nodding his head slowly.

'Do _not_ kill him,' he issued one final time before he turned and left without another look at the younger seraph.

Castiel had thought the demon dead, but clearly he had been hiding somewhere in the bowels of hell, licking his wounds, waiting for the right moment…

'Well.'  Alistair smirked.  'He didn’t say I couldn't put you on the _brink_ of death now, did he?'

Clearly, the right moment, was this moment.

 

-oOo-

 

Alistair stood back and admired his work.  At least that’s what Castiel thought he was doing, it was difficult to tell through the haze of agony from Alistair’s torture…  And the fact that the bastard had removed his eyes.  How Dean had lasted thirty years he would never know; after two solid weeks under Alistair’s ministrations, of the demon literally pulling him apart, poisoning his grace… if the foul ink stain of dark torment offered him a deal he’d probably take it. 

But Alistair never once asked him to join Raphael and Castiel wasn’t sure if the demon actually wanted him to do so – after all it would mean his fun would stop.

‘These really are pretty eyes, Angel.  _Very_ pretty.  I might keep these for myself.’  Castiel could hear Alistair shifting around the room.  ‘I wonder if the world would look different through these baby blues.  Think I’d be able to see true forms if I swap them for mine?’

‘No,’ Raphael’s voice echoed in the otherwise quiet chamber, the window to Earth closed whilst Alistair played with this angelic toy.  A heavy sigh followed, but Castiel was unsure if it belonged to the archangel or demon.

‘What have I told you, Alistair,’ Raphael asked, ‘about keeping to a safe line.  You’ve gone too close _again_.’  A wave of searing heat scorched him inside-out and when he blinked he could see again.  His body restored.  He felt his wings fluff and ruffle, feeling whole and unbroken again. 

‘For Heaven’s sake!  Look what you’ve done, you worthless _thing,_ ’ the archangel sneered at the demon, leaning into Alistair’s space, his lip curled in contempt and disgust, frustration making his limbs tremble as he tried to restrain himself.  ‘Now _I_ have to start all over.  _Adriel_!’

The battered angel turned his head at the sound of another set of sure footed steps entering the room.  ‘Your eminence?’

 _Eminence?  Surely he isn’t…_ A shudder ran through the bound seraph at the thought of the archangel trying to take the place of their Father, the Divine, the Almighty God. 

Castiel didn’t get much further in his wondering regarding what Raphael was doing to the Heavens as the familiar kiss of the archangel’s blade caressed his skin.

 

-oOo-

 

Castiel was done.  He just couldn’t keep going any longer.  His grace was waning; the torture that Raphael, Adriel and Alistair inflicted daily, hourly, minutely, was too much.  This was the first time he had been left in peace for what appeared to be weeks.  Adriel’s torture, a wicked psychological torment, was the cruellest.  Castiel watched each night as Dean threw the tablets back, washing them down quickly with a long swig of water before falling down on the small single bed he still occupied in Lisa’s spare room.

There were no prayers from his friend and the pills ensured there were no dreams either; the soft comforting pulses of pain relief he had felt previously were gone, allowing the constant ache in his wings to remind him of Raphael, the limpness of his limbs and the stench of his vessel’s blood and guts and waste, reminding him of Alistair, and the emptiness of Dean’s presence while Castiel looked on impotently was forever Adriel’s forte.

He couldn’t take any more.

If he were not bound to his vessel, he would have allowed his grace to fail, would have allowed it to slowly ebb into the cosmos, become part of the cycle of life and perhaps, one day in the far distant future, when Raphael had done whatever destruction he was going to cause, he could have been part of a new creation, a new world – surely his father wouldn’t allow the universe to remain empty for long?  But that option had been stolen from him.

Instead he had only two choices; continue as he had been, enduring the pain he suffered until he slowly lost himself, becoming nothing more than a form, thoughtless and empty, or surrender to Raphael, stand beside him and command his brethren who had stood for him to lay down their weapons, to submit to the archangel and reinstate the apocalypse that he had fought so hard against.

Dean snorted in his sleep and turned over, hugging the pillow tightly to him.  The unexpected sound made Castiel jump, his broken wings swinging, the joint holding them to his back cracking further, ripping a howl of agony from him.  

When the pain finally subsided, when he stopped heaving in lungful of breaths that his vessel needed to help subdue the suffering, he hung his head in shame, unable to look any further at his human. 

His sacrifice had been in vain. 

Dean had survived thirty years in hell, _alone_ , before breaking.  Castiel couldn’t manage ten without his friend’s influence... 

Castiel would submit when Raphael next demanded it.

 

-oOo-

 

No one came. 

The window to earth remained open, but Castiel refused to watch.  If he could have closed his ears he would have done that also.  Instead he heard Dean waking and going about his business.  He closed his eyes as his friend spoke to Lisa, revealing little, minute details of what he’d been through that prompted Castiel’s memories to burst to life – a small pulse of relief tickled his back as Dean’s memory danced briefly on their trip to the whore-house they had visited.  Castiel recalled wondering why, if Dean was so insistent on the angel experiencing sexual intercourse, he didn’t just complete the encounter with him.  Although he had quickly realised that this would not be something appropriate to question Dean on. 

Then as quickly as the tiny hint of respite teased him, it was gone, a flood of self loathing and denial hitting him hard, square in the chest, causing his grace a flare of distress of a different kind. 

The bound angel sobbed.  He wished the dick-angel, the one charged with watching over Dean, would leave him, would stop the torment.  What had he done to this angel?  To _any_ of his brethren that was so harsh for him to deserve to be bound to the heavens, to endure the punishment bequeathed to the Morning Star, who had questioned his Father, to Gadriel who had let in the serpent-

Dean cursed harshly, catching Castiel’s attention and forcing him to focus on his human for the first time since he had decided to betray him, to make his sacrifices count for nought.  He looked up, just as the man threw the, now empty, bottle of pills across the small room.  Dean slumped down onto his bed, his hands dragging down his face, before resting his chin in them, his brow furrowed in thought.

Slowly the ex-hunter climbed into bed, frown still firmly in place.  Castiel mirrored it as he watched.  It was as if Dean didn’t actually want to sleep – but if he didn’t want to sleep, why did he take pills to knock him out?

Finally Dean threw his arm over his face, his eyes hidden in the crook of the arm that once held Castiel’s hand print. 

It hurt Castiel to see the unblemished skin on his Winchester’s arm, but right now he was glad the mark was gone – he had no right to lay claim to a man he was about to destroy.

 

-oOo-

 

It took a while for Castiel to figure out what was different.  There were no snores coming from Dean, and the softest tendrils of comfort tickled at his grace.  Lifting his heavy head and peering through blurry eyes at the window, his forehead wrinkled in confusion at what he saw.

Dean was no longer in his room at Lisa’s, instead he was moving around an unknown bedroom, his shirt discarded over the back of a chair, the top button on his jeans unbuttoned.  Castiel drank in the muscular form of his human as he moved around the room, unpacking pieces here and there, tucking things away as if he was intimately familiar with the room.

Castiel could feel a thrum of expectation running through the dark-blond as he shifted, unable to keep still in the space.  Finally the door to the room opened and-

The angel blinked.

‘Cas,’ Dean sighs, a smile curling the corners of his mouth as a mirror image of Castiel’s vessel steps towards him, discarding his suit jacket over the same chair that Dean’s abandoned shirt decorated, before tugging at his tie, pulling it loose and-

Castiel’s eyes widened as the fake-Castiel throws the tie around Dean’s neck, using it to pull the slightly taller man to him without a word of warning and devouring his mouth in a heated kiss.  Dean moans and presses his body against the other man’s, his arms wrapping around fake-Castiel’s back-

A gasp slipped from Castiel’s lips as warmth and comfort and light swirled around him, running soothing fingers through his feathers, down his legs and arms, giving his limbs strength to support him again. 

‘Dean,’ he whispers in shock and awe as he watches his human and his fake counterpart manoeuvre themselves across the bedroom, pawing at each other’s clothes – the white shirt falling to the floor, Dean’s jeans left in a pile right next to fake-Castiel’ slacks – until they fall on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

Castiel groans, surprised at his vessel’s – _body’s_ – response as he watches ‘himself’ slide down Dean’s writhing body to kneel on the floor between his bow legs that splay so perfectly for him.  Dean’s erection stands proudly, already wet with pre-cum, and Castiel watches with fascination as this ‘Cas’ – as Dean calls out in lust filled pleasure – licks at the head, before wrapping his lips around it, sinking down as far as he can go…

Castiel feels Dean’s pleasure, his excitement like a punch to the stomach, it bowls him over, so intense as it is, as Cas sucks his cheeks hollow and bobs his head quickly before slowing, twisting slightly on the way back up. 

It moves up, into his chest, as Dean’s pleasure builds; the Cas in this scene, this dream, whatever it is, is bringing his friend close to the edge. Castiel feels his own body’s penis swell with blood, growing in length and hardness as Dean moans the shortened version of his name like a prayer.  A dirty, _filthy_ prayer that makes Castiel moan Dean’s name and his knees tremble in a sudden surge of desire, _want_ , need…

‘Fuck, Cas,’ Dean’s sex-rough voice growls, and this lightness, this feeling of euphoria spreads outwards, down his arms and to his fingers, healing the breaks, the joints pulled out of place painlessly sliding back to rights.  Castiel doesn’t know if this is what sexual intercourse feels like, but if it does, then he can understand why humans lust after one another as much as they do.  Why they chase this pleasure, this feeling, this _need_.

Dean’s hips buck, his hands thread into Cas’ hair and he moans, low, deep, the other man’s name, and Castiel can feel his grace flair, swell;, it’s almost too much, almost bursting out his skin, the feeling chases up his spine, towards his wings and-

‘Not yet, Dean,’ Cas teases, making him moan and thrash.  A hard press to Dean’s hips stills his movements, but pulls another groan from Dean and Castiel simultaneously as they hang on the precipice  of something… more, something all encompassing.  Something that Castiel feels will complete him, give him strength again.

He watches as the other Cas climbs back up Dean’s body, licking his way up his human’s chest before bracketing the dirty-blonds’ head with his knees. 

Castiel’s eyes go wide as he sees Dean grin, watches him lick his lips as Cas offers his cock to the man below him.  Castiel glances down at his own aroused penis and frowns back up at Dean’s… dream?  Dean was certainly generous with his imagination-

He nearly swore as the dream Cas shoved his large cock past Dean’s lips, thrusting and using Dean’s mouth harsher than Castiel would have thought possible and Dean… Dean moaned in pleasure as the length forced its way in; his eyes rolling back in bliss as Cas leans over him, his arms planted firmly on the mattress above his head and he begins to shove his swollen cock in and out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s eyes widened as it hits the back of this throat, a gagging sound and then a needy moan, causes Cas to stutter and swear ‘ _fuck, yes,_ ’ harshly, eliciting another moan from the man whose face he is fucking into.  Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ thighs and pushes his head forward, wanting Cas to go deeper, harder, faster…

Castiel watches in aroused fascination.  He is an Angel of the Lord, he should not wish to do these things, he should not wish to engage in carnal desires… but right now he _wants_ to.  He wants to replace that _Cas_ with his own vessel and take Dean.  Perhaps not so harshly, not so forcefully, but in a way that still makes his human hum with pleasure, moan in wanton need and hot desire for _him_ , and him alone.

His eyes widen as he watches Cas pull his cock from Dean’s mouth and runs his hand over it, once, twice, three times as Dean smiles and licks his lips, before Cas spends himself over Dean’s face, catching his eyelashes, his cheeks and lips with strips of his white seed.

Castiel blinks as Cas hangs his head, panting, chasing his breath before smiling widely down at Dean, still lying below him, flushed with lust and still unspent.

‘Like that?  That what you wanted?’ Cas asks as he leans over and takes the cloth from beside the bed before gently wiping Dean’s face clean, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips as he removes the physical evidence of his lust. 

‘You are perfect, my love,’ the fake-angel’s voice completely wrecked.  ‘So perfect.’  He throws the towel away and proceeds to kiss down his lover’s neck, his chest, muttering terms of endearments, whispers of praise for how well Dean is doing.  The blond man lays beneath him, his cock still hard and flushed red; he’s aroused beyond what Castiel thought he could endure without at least touching – his hips twitch, desperate to move and thrust against Cas’ hard body, but knowing he can’t without permission.

Cas is back on his knees on the floor, gazing up along Dean’s muscular body as he breathes the word ‘ _Beautiful’_ before hitching Dean’s legs up, planting his feet on Cas’ shoulders.  Without breaking eye contact he leans forward into Dean’s body, between his legs, until Dean’s aching, leaking length makes it impossible for the dirty-blond to watch him anymore.  Dean’s legs move with him, widening and parting his ass and exposing his tight hole.

The moan from Dean as Cas’ tongue flicks out and traces the puckered, trembling flesh around it causes another flare of Castiel’s grace within him.  It teases the joint in his wings along with his still engorged member that he frustratingly can’t reach.  A thought, a small idea teases the back of his mind that if he could, if he could just stroke himself, pull those same noises from his own lips that are spilling out of Dean as Cas pulls his ass apart and shoves his tongue in, that Dean would feel him, would hear him, would be with him once again – complete, whole.

‘Cas, please,’ Dean begs, writhing on the bed, thrusting his hips down, trying to get Cas deeper within him, to reach some place within him that only he can touch.  A finger joins Cas’ tongue; Dean tosses his head back, his eyes closed as he hisses a ‘ _yes, but more!’_ at the man working him open. 

‘Cas, fuck, now, please, want you so bad, need you so much…’

Castiel feels the near overwhelming pleasure build within him again, thrumming through this body, along his celestial wave length bound in this small vessel; it pulses in him as Cas pushes his once again hard cock into Dean, burying himself within _Castiel’s_ human.  The seraph growls as he watches the figment of Dean’s imagination touch him in a way Castiel never could, that Dean would never _really_ allow.

But Dean’s pleasure, throbbing between them, pushes the jealousy to one side for a moment as Castiel’s grace responds, and the angel can feel it, rushing up into his wings, healing them, mending the breaks, restoring the plumage, lifting them high above him, as his body shakes with the overload of sensations Dean is feeling as Cas lifts his hips slightly and hits a spot that makes Dean buck and curse over and over again…

Light spills, pouring over his form, leaking from his skin; it’s too much, there’s too much to control, to feel, to want-

‘ _Castiel_!’ Dean screams _his_ name as he comes, hot, white spurts jerked from his cock as Cas continues to thrust into him, chasing his own second round of pleasure and Castiel feels it all. 

A burst of brilliant white light engulfs him, the room, the prison itself as his own penis swells and spurts the seed his body makes without thought.

And when it is all over, when all is calm and still, when Dean and Cas curl up in the bed, arms tight around one another, Dean’s head tucked into the crook of Cas’ neck and shoulder, his arm thrown over the other man’s chest, Castiel is alone on the floor of his prison, arms and legs free, restored to his seraph glory and unconscious.

 

-oOo-

 

The flash of light, so bright, made the chorus of angels stop and turn towards the darkest corner of the Heavens; as a collective their heads tilt in curiosity as a ripple of restoration, a feeling so familiar yet unfelt for so long they are forgiven for not recognising their Father’s touch.

 

-oOo-

 

The three of them had been at a loss when they had entered Castiel’s prison, finding the lowly angel curled in a ball, a mess of downy feathers stuck to his sink along with the filthy seed of his vessel.   Raphael had demanded to know who exactly had been in on this escape attempt. 

Castiel awoke just as Adriel fastened the last of the cuffs back to his wrists, hearing Raphael giving orders to kill on sight any of Castiel’s known sympathisers to his generals and dismissing them before he turned to his younger sibling.

‘I will find them, brother,’ Raphael sneered as he ran his hands through Castiel’s gleaming white feathers.  ‘And I will destroy, each.’

_Crack._

‘And every.’

_Crack._

‘One of them.’

_Crack._

 

-oOo-

 

It was a familiar pain Castiel felt when his older brother and his demon sidekick walked out of the room once they were through with him; restoring his wings to a blackened, charred and broken state, and his body to its aching, limp rag-doll frame.

His body expelled bile as his stomach heaved from Alistair’s parting gift of a punch to it.

‘Oh and, Castiel?’ Adriel called waving her hand and reopening the window that allowed Castiel to see Dean.

His eyes widened in horror as he watched Dean, sliding down Lisa’s body, just as the dream-version of himself had done to Dean a few nights prior.

Her laugh, at the stricken look marring his face, assults his ears as she leaves him, physically broken, to suffer emotional trauma. 

He wishes Alistair had taken his eyes again, wishes he’d battered his body’s head so badly he lost his  hearing, that he wouldn’t be subjected to Lisa’s over-excited moans of pleasure, her chants of Dean’s name, and the blasphemies she echoes.

Whilst Lisa was lost in the excitement Dean brought to her, Dean’s body language betrayed his engagement.  Castiel had walked in on his human in full sex a number of times, much to his friend’s humiliation, and for all he understood of human interaction, he knew the difference between Dean Winchester all revved up and raring to go and… What was the human phrase?  Going through the motions.

It was after Dean was spent, after Lisa had screamed her satisfaction for the second time that Castiel finally identified that the twisting sickness in his gut wasn’t solely his own feeling.

 

-oOo-

 

 _Hey assbutt,_ Dean’s voice rang loud and clear in Castiel’s mind, and the angel ground his teeth together.  Dean still sat on Lisa’s bed… the bed he’d fornicated in the night prior.  He still had Lisa’s scent over him, flecks of her dried juice on his chin.Castiel turns his head away in disgust at the sight.   Dean was wallowing in self-loathing for what he had done with Lisa, the bed he’s made, he literally has to lie in for now until the day one of them died – or Lisa got fed up of him – and it was twisting and turning Castiel’s own emotions – emotions and feelings he _shouldn’t_ be having.

He still hadn’t worked out what Adriel had done to him to make this happen, but he felt the angel had missed a perfect career opportunity down in the depths of hell.

 _It’s been months_ , Dean continued.  Lisa was wailing some pop song that the angel _knew_ Dean would hate without the wave of exasperation that hit him.  What had possessed Dean to agree to Sam’s request.  What had Sam Winchester been doing making such demands of Dean anyway? 

_We’re having a barbecue today – all of Lisa’s friends and neighbours swinging by.  She’s trying to… integrate me.  I understand that… but I can’t do it._

_And what about your friend’s Dean?  Is she going to integrate with them – hunters and informants?_ Castiel huffed.  No that’s right, Dean was out of the business now.  Dean has _no_ friends he could include in this life that Sam and Lisa wants for him.  It makes Castiel growl in frustration, both at the situation his friend is in, that he agreed to conform, to be something that he wasn’t, and at his own anger at the situation.  His own lack of control over whatever Raphael and Adriel had done to make him feel these things. 

_Hell man, I had three friends in the whole world; Sammy, Bobby and, well, you._

Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his restraints as sadness curls through Dean, guilt hanging heavy in his stomach.

_You – man, I must be in a bad way if I’m inviting a socially awkward angel to a family filled barbecue.  You’ll probably end up staring at the kids and freaking out their folks that you’re some pervert._

Castiel sucks in a sharp breath at the sudden warmth he feels radiating from Dean; the amusement his human suddenly projects… Dean was endeared by something to do with Castiel.  The angel fells himself turn soft inside, his anger dissipating rapidly, tenderness replacing the building fury-

_…And I’d like for you to meet her – Lisa, I mean._

 

-oOo-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words, kudos and support. They mean a lot!


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words he had heard a long time ago, so long ago he wasn’t even sure if the world had yet been formed, tickled at his memory, words he should remember, important words, words blessed upon him once long ago…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter and only one more to go!

‘Stop it, please, I beg you.’

Raphael paused, frowning down at his younger sibling, as he stepped into Castiel’s prison. 

‘Cut the connection, please, I can’t take any more of these emotions…’

‘What are you talking about, brother?’  He glanced to Adriel who looked as confused as he did.  The other angel glanced towards the portal to earth, to where her prized solider was watching over Dean Winchester, capturing every moment of his life.  Right now ‘The Righteous Man’ was fornicating again with the sinful woman he had quickly taken up residence with after the attempted aversion of the apocalypse.

‘The emoti-’ his voice broke in a cry of anguish just as Dean grunted his completion and Lisa wrapped her arms protectively around him, trying to snuggle and bask in the supposed afterglow.  Dean got up and left the bed for the bathroom causing a sigh to escape from Lisa’s puffy lips.

‘Just stop it, please,’ he begged again.  ‘You have me bound here, I can be no threat to you now – the others.’ Another hitch as Dean struggled to look himself in the eye as he gazed in the mirror after washing his face of the evidence of his earlier activities.  ‘The others must realise that now.’

A smirk spread across the archangel’s lips.  ‘Of course they do, that’s why your followers hide and evade me still.  You’re no threat to me, but they are, and as I promised you, Castiel, I will kill every last one of them,’ he drawled.

 

-oOo-

 

It seemed that Raphael preferred the results that Adriel was achieving with their hostage than what Alistair or the archangel managed.  The latter two barely paying the bound angel any heed now that it was clear he was on the edge of finally committing to their cause. 

And Castiel had been.  Before that night of Dean’s first dream of him. 

Dean keeps dreaming of Castiel often – the dreams don’t end in completion and whilst they don’t heal his body again, they repair his resolve, they give him strength.  He feels love and warmth.  Sometimes the dreams are tender and loving and those are the ones he likes best, they’re the ones he feels deep within his grace, soothing it, leaving him feel loved in a way he’s never felt before, not even from his Father, and filled with warmth – a deep need to carry on, to uphold his beliefs, even if his friend misses him and doesn’t understand.

There are some nights he thinks that the dream-version that Dean makes love to, could be him.  He feels it in his body, he feels the emotions the dream-him portrays, and sometimes, the words that are spoken between them, that fall from the not-Cas are the words that Castiel would have said.

Then there are the other dreams of him.   Dreams where he fucks Dean hard and fast, or where Dean takes him instead.  These dreams heal his body, but his grace lacks the strength to pull him free too. 

Either his grace is weak, or his body is.  He never seems to get the two to coincide. 

But it doesn’t matter what dream Dean has, soft and tender love making or hard and fast fucking, the next day he wakes Lisa to fuck her furiously, focusing all his attention on pleasing her as if the actions can chase away his thoughts. 

But he can’t.  He misses his angel although he won’t admit it, not even to himself, and Castiel wants to weep.  The self-hate that is building within dean, wants to escape, is clawing at him and tearing him up inside, and Castiel is frightened, is now desperate to be free of the Heaven’s for fear of his friend…

 

-oOo-

_…I’m desperate, Cas._ Dean’s voice cut through the pain of Alistair’s latest torment.  He lifted his battered and bloody head, trying to look at the source of his respite, but the window was closed.  Kidneys on the table, intestines hanging over the light… _Ah!_ Castiel finally recalled, Alistair hadn’t wanted the angel to be distracted by his escaped protégé.

‘Dean,’ he breathed, his human was finally praying to him directly again. He was in pain, in need, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel, to reveal since the apocalypse. 

_I’m trying, I really am.  I want to do this, for Sammy.  But I’m tearing my freakin’ hair out here.  I’m not cut out for this lifestyle.  I’m a hunter, plain and simple.  I see bad things around every corner._

Words he had heard a long time ago, so long ago he wasn’t even sure if the world had yet been formed, tickled at his memory, words he should remember, important words, words blessed upon him once long ago…

_In time of need…_

What was it?  Castiel cursed himself; how far they had all fallen if their own blessings were forgotten.

The need was tingeing Dean’s voice, his desperation evident within his soul, he wanted out, wanted to walk away from it all… he was so tired, so lonely; he was running on empty and Castiel couldn’t be there to refuel him. 

‘Ask me,’ he breathed, desperation clawing up his gullet.  ‘Say the words, Dean, please.’

_But this apple-pie life…?_

‘Just ask,’ he whispered, a spike of dread in his stomach pushed his heart to quicken, his blood to speed around his body and rush through his ears, roaring as a deep seated fear rolled through him as darkness, uncertainty and depression rolled through his hunter. ‘Don’t give up,’ he prayed himself to his friend.  ‘Don’t even think it, just ask for me, ask for _help,_ Dean…’

When Dean’s voice ceased to whisper within his grace, he pulled fruitlessly at his bindings, making them shake and rattle, as he tried to escape, to free himself, panic rising within him.

‘No, Dean, _ask…_ Dean!’ he cried in desperation, his voice echoing around the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to him, empty, useless, as contained as he is. 

He hung his head, his chains rattling as he slumped in defeat, his stomach oozing blood onto the floor, his liver slipping from the cavity at his side…

_Dean!  
_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Dean, please, stop,’ Castiel whispers as the ex-hunter’s fingers flick against the keys; horror fills his grace, churning his stomach and this time he knows with certainty that this terror, this feeling was one hundred percent his own – Dean was completely empty. not even anger radiated in him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, a short epilogue that will lead into the next part of the story will follow.

Dean stood watching the young man that he would have been proud to say was his own, _his_ flesh and blood, but Castiel felt the deep relief that he wasn’t.  Ben would never be affected by what appeared to be a blood curse, going back generations through both lines of his family, that plagued him and everyone he loved.

Castiel had watched with a deep dread as Dean had ensured that Ben would be occupied for a few hours, busy with his friends, playing kickball, supervised by other adults whilst he ‘worked on his “Baby”’, under strict instructions _not_ to enter the garage.  The angel had watched, impotently, feeling Dean’s deep depression, his boredom, his lack of worth and general feeling of uselessness, as Dean set about the garage preparing the means to his end.

With one last look and a deep, bone weary sigh, Dean turned back to the garage, pulling down the door to hide what would take place within.  He checked the exhaust one last time before opening Baby’s door.  The slight squeak from it, made the man frown and hesitate in sliding into the car, his gaze sliding over to a can of oil on the shelf behind the car. 

Sighing he moved to the back of the garage and grabbed the oil, turning back to the car that had been home his entire life, or at least as much of it as he could remember.  He ran his hand over her lines as he made his way to her door; she’d been good to him and Sammy – who had also made the backseat their playground, school room, bedroom, confessional…

Castiel cocks his head to the side as he watches the act; how strange it was that Dean still cared about the condition of his Impala, when he couldn’t give a fuck about himself.  Perhaps it was enough for-

‘Dean.  No!’  Castiel’s voice rings out with a strength his body and grace does not have, as the ex-hunter slides across the cool leather into the driving seat, his hands stroking the wheel.  However, the command falls on deaf ears as his friend says his final goodbye to his beloved ‘Baby’.

‘You’ve been good, girl,’ his voice is low and husky, filled with a sad fondness.  ‘And at least I know that you’ll be up in heaven – with mom and dad – even if Sammy and I aren’t.  You were heaven on wheels though, Baby; kept us safe and warm when we had no other roof over our heads.  You cradled Sammy and me as we slept, while dad drove on through the night-’  his voice cracks and he wipes at his eyes with his shirt sleeve, oblivious to Castiel’s distress, how the angel pulls on his chains, straining to get to his human. 

‘I just wanted to say thank you, girl.  And I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that after this they’ll send you away- you don’t deserve that.  I left you to Bobby, but I don’t think-’ he coughs on a sob, and Castiel makes grunt of frustration, cursing Raphael and the rest of the Host. ‘I don’t think even he’ll want you after this…’

‘Dean, please, stop,’ Castiel whispers as the ex-hunter’s fingers flick against the keys; horror fills his grace, churning his stomach and this time he knows with certainty that this terror, this _feeling_ was one hundred percent his own – Dean was completely empty. not even anger radiated in him anymore.

‘I… You wouldn’t understand – no one would understand, not even Sammy,’ he confesses as his fingers move from the keys and instead run up and over the dash, along toward the tape player, the knobs he’s had to replace a number of times due to wear, the buttons that no longer hold the imprint of their operation on them, worn away over the years of constant use.  ‘But I wanted-’ he hiccups.  ‘I wanted something different to what everyone else wanted.  I wanted to be something different.  Or maybe not.  I don’t know.

‘Dad raised me to be this machine, this hunter that was made for this life – never quite good enough for it, for him, but… what I hate about it, what I _really_ hate, is that mom would have never wanted this for us.  I understand that; going back and seeing what she did for us, what she did to keep us out of that life… she’d have hated what dad became, what he made us into.  God help dad if he’s with her in Heaven, because, man is he gonna get it off her,’ he huffs a small laugh, but there is no real amusement behind it.

‘And Sammy… man that kid,’ he shakes his head with a sad little smile on his lips.  ‘I was the one who had time with mom, real time that I can just, _just,_ remember, and Dad and everyone who knew her said I got her softness, her colouring, her looks… but Sammy, man, he got her tenacity, her drive… He understood more than me or dad that this, this wasn’t what she wanted – she wanted us to grow up in a family home, go school, do well, meet the right… girl,’ Dean stumbles for a moment, ‘and settle down and have kids.  The big ol’ American dream.  Apple pie life,’ he scoffs, as if the very idea offends him. 

‘I was fine with hunting.  Can’t say I’d be much good at anything else.  I felt I had a purpose, you know, hunting the monsters that hurt the innocent… I romanticised it as a kid, thinking I was a hero, but you know what, I _was_ a goddamn hero!  Sammy too!  So many people are alive because we were there, we helped.  We didn’t sit back, knowing what we know, doing jack-shit about it!’

‘Dean,’ Castiel breathes, closing his eyes and praying to his father to help, to stop this.  He hears the tinkle of the keys and holds his vessel’s breath, waiting for the engine to start, for Dean to slowly poison himself to death… He didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly know, that when he reached the heavens Raphael would throw him straight back down.  When moments passed without the roar of the Impala, Castiel slowly opens his eyes; Dean sits staring out the windshield, at the closed garage doors, but the angel knew that it wasn’t the white aluminium he was seeing.

‘I wanted to carry on, I wanted you and me out on that road, hunting things, saving people, working the family business, but with…’ another sigh falls from the ex-hunter’s lips.  ‘I didn’t want what Sam or mom wanted; I didn’t want what dad wanted either, I wanted… I wanted the open road, I wanted a companion, someone who understood me-’

Castiel fells warmth within his chest; the beginnings of something, a seed that could grow so big, he believes that even his natural form wouldn’t contain it. 

‘-who believed in what we did, without question, but enjoyed taking a break, a time out, knowing that we could just be…’ 

The warmth spreads within his chest, reaching and filling his grace like Dean’s dreams do – the soft gentle kind, the ones that promised his grace peace and rest, that tantalised him with the not quite promise of restoration and completion.  It was almost as if-

_You got your listening ears on, Castiel?_

Castiel gasps as the feeling bursts within him, his core rejoicing in song, the bond between them opening… His vessel’s blood rushing through his veins, causing his heart to pound, to echo through his being as his grace reciprocates the quickened rhythm-

_Cas, I just wanted to say I get it.  You needed me for what I was and now that it’s all over and done with I’m ‘surplus to requirements’ as my boss would say. I understand now, I wasn’t a friend, merely a charge.  Sammy probably would have understood that quicker…_

The scent is the first thing he notices; human’s recognise it as fresh cut grass, resting in the sunlight after a spring rain, as blossoms budding and flowering in spring, as fresh fallen snow on the unspoilt arctic landscapes… pure, clean, renewal-

_So I finally get it, I’ll leave you alone.  Just, I’m drowning here.  Drowning in lies and misery and guilt.  Guilt for Sammy, for the whole world still turning, for the way I’m lying to Lisa._

‘Castiel,’ the voice whispers within him, ‘I bless you as the guardian to watch over all Thursdays-’

_I thought we were friends – or something at least close enough – and that’s why I kept calling.  I needed someone…_ you _– I suppose – to come tell me that it was going to get better, that eventually this pain would go away, or at least dull._

_Lisa says it will, but-_

The pain, anguish and anger that Dean feels, that had knocked him on his knees over the time he had spent held here, was now embraced by his grace, soothing it, caressing it, helpingit to calm, to ebb into understanding, to accept and forgive the things he, as a human, couldn’t control.

_You were there, you saw, you experienced everything we went through.  You were support to me when I was ready to quit – and fuck, man, next time just speak, don’t beat the ever-loving shit out of me!_

‘-Those who seek you on this day will never need fear, for you will find them and tend to them, they will never fear pain nor suffering for you will guide them and aid them away from their loss, their hopelessness, bringing them home to me once more.’

And then the touch; the blessèd touch, a touch that held every emotion, every heartache and heartbreak in the world, every soft caress of skin, every spoken and unspoken I love you; a touch that spoke of need and want, of give and acceptance, of forgiveness and forgetfulness, of loss and healing.  It was creation, it was the start, the alpha… And yet also the end, the stopping of time, the omega.  It was the love of a mother, a father, a child, yet the passion and sensation of lovers.  It was overwhelming, all encompassing, it was nothing he had ever felt before and yet everything he was familiar with pinpointed to his heart, a heart that beat in time with another, with his human, a heart that hummed with the same frequency, that connected him, left him in sync with the man who would be his own rebirth…

His grace grew, filled his body with its light, its compassion and love.  It reached his head to his toes, it swells in this core, reaching towards his wings, where the real damage had been done.  He was close, so close to being whole-

_I understand that I’m beneath the angels now, but I_ need _you-_

‘If _you_ ever need _me,_ Cas, regardless of all this now, just pop by here, because I’ll be here, with Lisa, just like I promised.  But I’ll be ready and willing to do whatever you need-’

‘Dean.’  The angel blinked realisation dawning that he was no longer _watching_ , but there, with Dean in the Impala, a place of familiarity, a place that welcomed him when he needed to retreat, to simply rest or to hide, a place that offered him comfort and forgiveness, a place that he considered _home._

‘Cas?’  Dean stared at him in disbelief.

‘Yes, Dean.’  He drank his fill of his human beside him, he hadn’t believed he would ever see him again, and the memories of watching, of sitting impotently as his human destroyed himself… _His_ human.  He glanced around, trying to see where the dick-angel was, _who_ it was…

A deep desire to tell the other angel to _fuck off_ , to kill the bastard that had encroached on Dean’s privacy, on his dreams; who had aided in his torture, as sudden wanting seared him, desperation to reach out, to touch Dean, to rip his shirt from him, place his hand over where his mark should be and rebrand the man as _his_.    ‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he said instead.

‘Freeing you?  Dude, what’s going on?  Why do you look like crap?’ 

His wings, he realised, hadn’t been restored, he felt the sigil still burned into them, but the rest of Raphael’s spells, of his and Alistair’s handiwork was gone.  Why would his father not heal him completely? 

He made to speak, to tell Dean exactly why he hadn’t been able to answer his prayers, but he sensed Raphael’s outrage – his escape had been discovered.

‘I can explain, but they will not be far behind…’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this piece and putting up with the gaps, I know that my day-job (teaching high school!) doesn't make it easy to have hobbies. This is my first completed multi-chapter fic (not my longest by far! But the first completed!) and I want to thank you for giving it a go and commenting and leaving praise (Kudos!). I really appreciate it, and it does encourage me to keep going!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I keep telling you He works in mysterious ways.

_I heard them, Dean.  Every prayer you uttered, every vocal and silent plea you made.  I saw your dreams of my coming to you.  I watched you pull your hair out, figuratively and literally._

_Then why didn’t you come to me, man, and why don’t you heal yourself?_

_I could not and cannot.  The other angels…_

_What did they do, Cas?_

_I was wrong to return to heaven after we defeated Lucifer – I should have stayed here, with you… There were no “angel orgies” like you kept suggesting.  Instead I walked into such hostility – they took me and bound me.  No angel – not since Lucifer – has been bound…_

_What happened?_

_They… my wings, they burnt my feathers and broke them_

_Is that why you’re sat-_

_Yes, they are very painful._

_Dude!_

_Raphael carved sigils in my grace – it prevents me from healing my form, from coming when you called, from going anywhere, doing anything._

_Did they put you in a cage?_

_No, only God can create a prison to house an angel and he is still absent.  They simply kept me bound to the heavens – gave me the role of watching over you._

_But you couldn’t come to me?_

_Yes, they thought it would be sufficient torture to watch you begin to destroy yourself from the inside out, hearing you pleading with me and knowing I could do nothing about it._

_But surely they knew if I happened to pray on a Thursday-_

_Even I did not know of the power.  Until you prayed I had no idea you would release me from my bindings.  When you did, it was almost as if I was… reborn.  I heard my father’s voice speaking ‘Castiel, you are the Angel of Thursday – those who seek you on this day will never need fear, for you will find them and tend to them.’_

_As if the big guy knew I’d need you._

_I keep telling you He works in mysterious ways._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you for following my little tale and for the encouragement and feedback I received.  
> I am currently outlining the next part of Castiel's and Dean's adventure in this AU-World...


End file.
